


A Small Dose of Ratchet Fever

by DrgRcnGrl



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other, but there aren't always happy endings, hope you enjoy this anyway!, not the ending you'd expect, or want really, something you'd never expect, such is the way of life, tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrgRcnGrl/pseuds/DrgRcnGrl
Summary: NEST and the human government for the United States has required the Autobots to have a human medic studying under Ratchet for the purpose of human intelligence. Ratchet has gone through numerous human medics, all of them quitting after a short amount of time.But it just takes one human for the system to work.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

"I can't believe that the American government is sending in another one!" Ratchet growled, tossing a wrench back onto the metal table. "Can't they tell that I don't want another? Can't they see that we can be just fine without another one?"

Optimus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "They believe it is in their best interest that a human does come and learn the ways and such of Cybertronians. I agree with them."

He sent a short glare at the large mech. "You do? Then why don't you try to take care of the human, while I work as I always have. We've never had trouble before, and all these humans bring to me is trouble. Distraction."

"They do not just bring you trouble, old friend. I have heard of this new human. A female. She is the top of her class in what humans call 'university', and you just might get along well with her."

Ratchet scoffed. "I highly doubt that."

The red and blue Prime chuckled softly, patting him on the shoulder gently. "Whether or not you enjoy having an apprentice that is human, it is what must happen if the alliance between the Autobots and the American government stays intact. I will not decline them. You can handle it. I have faith that you can. You have never let me down before."

"Before, I didn't have humans roaming around my medical center," he muttered, so softly that Optimus barely heard him.

-

The first day of anything is always more stressful than the days that follow. At least, that is what goes for most subjects and tasks. Even careers. On the first day, you meet your boss or professor and you establish a relationship with them that will possibly carry you through the course, maybe through the job itself until the job is no longer necessary or can satisfy your needs when it comes to employment. Your needs to pay rent, to pay for food, to pay for clothes, and eventually, to pay for children and all of their needs.

All of this was running through my mind. It was a marathon inside of my head, with the crowd cheering and roaring and chanting my name. The sound internally was almost enough to get me a headache, but I had known what was coming.

It didn't take some rocket scientist to know that I was not the first person to be coming. The first person to be voted on to go help with the Autobots, to learn their ways and their anatomy. But I was surely the latest one, and the only one, as far as I knew, that would be going right at this moment.

With my suitcase rolling at my side, I looked out upon the large military base. The military base that would serve me as my home for the next few months, years at most. Surely not my entire life, but as long as they would need me. As long as I didn't quit.

The base was nothing spectacular. A grey sand surrounded it, with only a few bushes and trees. No dirt or grass as far as the eye could see. It was completely surrounded by water, miles and miles and miles of just water until you would eventually reach some other land mass. Africa or the like.

The base's walls were, as far as I could tell, made up of concrete. Nice thick walls, built up very high in order to house the most intelligent species known to mankind. Though most of mankind wouldn't easily admit that there was a species far more intelligent than us.

That was a problem with us. And we can't even admit our own faults. How are other species going to accept us if we can't even accept what and who we are, ourselves?

"Miss Griffin?"

I quickly turned around, my suitcase getting caught once more in the sand. Sighing, I picked it up and held it by the handle. "Yes?"

The man running up to me looked not much older than I was. Late twenties, maybe. Brown hair, muscular, but not like John Cena muscular. "You're Ratchet's new assistant, right?"

Ratchet. So that is the male's name. I nodded. "Yes. I'm... Ratchet's new assistant."

He laughed, shaking his head. "The last few hadn't gone so well. Quit after less than a week. Come on, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

Without another word, I followed him. He led me inside the large building. It seemed to be larger on the inside than it was on the outside. So tall, and it was mostly empty space that wasn't occupied by anything but air.

It had to be several stories high at the very least. It pained my neck to look all the way up. When I did look up, though, I saw a few large skylights. Much larger than even the most grand hotels that New York City would hold. It was truly a sight to see, magnificent. It wasn't what I expected a military base, so solitary, to hold.

The man led me down a few large hallways. Even the hallways were very big. Tall, wide. Almost wider than whole houses. "My name's Lennox, by the way."

"Lennox?" My head tilted. That was an odd first name.

He laughed. "William Lennox. Better?"

I nodded, instantly smiling softly. "Nice to meet you, William. I'm Sara Griffin."

Will just laughed, unlocking a door. "I knew what your name was. This will be your room. I'll leave you to get settled in." He pushed open the door.

Inside, the room was almost as bland looking as I was. There was one bed, one dresser, one nightstand, and one alarm clock. No window. Just one ceiling fan with a light, and that was it. There was nothing else. They were all metal, at least the bed was, and the nightstand was some form of metal. As if everything in there was made of some type of metal.

Maybe that's some sort of sign or something.

"It's more lavish than the other soldier rooms," he chuckled. "Probably trying to spoil you so that you stay longer. Anyway, there's a map posted on the back side of the door and the schedules for your work and such. If you need help, just yell. Somebody'll probably come and help."

He didn't sound so sure about that. But left before I could ask any questions.

With another small sigh, I rolled my suitcase in and shoved it beside the dresser. Unpacking could be done later. Exploring would probably be more interesting at the moment.

Or even meeting my new boss. Ratchet.

~

"And... That's the sign that's right there..." I squinted, looking between the folded map in my hands and the signs on the walls. "But then there's that sign, too... So I could be there or there... Or there..."

Give a nobel prize to the engineer that designed this place. Then give it back and make him cry, please. Because he did some terrible job with this base.

I groaned, holding myself back from throwing my map down on the ground and stomping on it like a bug. "God dang... This can't... Ugh..."

"Excuse me, I am trying to do some work here!"

That definitely was not Will.

And it wasn't me.

"Um..." I frowned, looking up at the sign. And of course I missed it the first time.

Block letters. 'Medical Officer Ratchet'. Right on the open door.

Slowly, I walked inside and looked around. He probably wouldn't mind. This is where I'd be working for the next few months. Would it hurt for me to look around a bit?

My eyes traveled around the room, and suddenly, they were met by large blue circle things. Optics, I believe it was? Was it? Yeah, that was in the email... The general layout of the body...

"What are you doing in here?" the large red being growled. He didn't seem to be very happy go lucky. "You aren't due for work for another day. Why are you early?"

"Because I thought it would be nice for me to get a general layout of the place before I work." That sounded like a good, sophisticated reply. I hoped it was.

The red male sighed, looking back down at a metal thing. "Right. You'll be working over there." He lifted his large red arm and pointed to the opposite end of the room.

Right in the corner, a human sized desk. With an uncomfortable looking chair.

"... Okay. Good to know where I'll be working," I nodded, speaking slowly as I looked around some more. "This is a pretty big room."

He scoffed. "You're just not as large as we are. Small, humans are."

"Are you really calling me small?"

"Yes."

I was in no shape to be making threats to a super intelligent being that was fifty times my size. "Alrighty then..."

And with that, I decided it was best I leave. Work didn't start till dawn, and it was already almost dusk. I had a lot of sleeping to do. Big day tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

The schedule on the back of my door read that dinner, or supper whatever it was called here, was at six. Eighteen hours, sharp. It didn't say what was for supper, which sort of confused me. Then again, no matter what it was, the soldiers would need to eat in order to keep their strength up.

I, on the other hand, didn't exactly have to. But I knew I probably should, if I wanted to be able to keep up with Ratchet tomorrow. Internally, I wondered what Cybertronians would have to 'eat' in order to stay functioning. Maybe I would meet some of them later and ask.

Following my atrocious map, I made my way to the hangar where the soldiers were to eat. It didn't take as long as I thought, only about twenty minutes to find the place. If I had been given a tour, it might have made things a little easier to find. And so far, not a single female on the base was to be seen. I'm sure there's a word for that.

Oh, yes. Sexist.

The man I formally knew as William Lennox was standing with a plastic plate in his hand, talking to some other man whom I didn't know.

I walked into the room fully and stood at the end of a line. The line, I assumed, was for the food. All of the soldiers, all different nationalities and heights, were talking amongst themselves, none of them noticing me. I would be lying to myself if I said it surprised me. Men are going to be men. Though I will admit, some men can be different. Different than sexist pigs that think that a women's only purpose in this world is to please them and have their babies.

This may be a sign to me that I should consider being lesbian. But probably not. There are men out there that are worth waiting for.

"Hey, there's Sara Griffin." It was the same male voice from before. William Lennox.

I turned around quickly, almost turning into a different man. "Oh! Sorry," I said to the man I sort of 'ran' into. I then turned to look around for the source of William's face.

He was standing at the far corner of the room. When he had yelled my name, all eyes turned to look at me. Every single pair of eyes. That was not my ideal situation.

I heard him laugh, like a chuckle only a bit louder, then he shouted my name again. "Sara! When you get your food, come over here, I want you to meet some people!"

I dearly hoped that he wasn't one of those men who would try their very best to do nothing but embarrass me in front of everybody and make fun of me. That was what high school was for.

The line slowly dwindled down to just a few other soldiers and myself. I grabbed a plate and started to pile on food. Not too much, in case they planned on having leftovers, but I did grab enough for me to get full. It was less than what I could say for the soldier in front of me. He got well over the proper serving sizes, even for his large size.

I grabbed a plastic bottle of water, it was all they were offering for the beverage, and made my way over to William Lennox. He was talking to three other men. One had dark skin, very muscular. The other two looked a bit more bland, though if I am correct, one of them was of Latin descent. The other, I couldn't exactly tell what he was. They all didn't seem like the bad sort.

The muscular black man looked up at me, then I felt his eyes scanning me. It almost made me shiver. "You must be Ratchet's new assistant?"

I nodded. "Yeah. That's me." I thought it was 'apprentice', but assistant worked as well.

He laughed, looking up then back at me. Tall man, he was. Almost a full foot taller than me. "Hopefully, you'll last longer than a week. The last one, Charles, didn't last but a few days."

William Lennox looked like he was about to choke on his beer. Where did he get that? "He was a total nut. Didn't know how to listen to directions at all. Ratchet hated him more than anybody else did."

Frowning, I asked, "What's so bad about Ratchet?"

"He can sometimes be worse than a girl on her monthly," the black man stated, with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever. "Wait, I take that back: all the damn time, he's worse than a girl on her monthly."

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I started to eat the sandwich. It tasted a bit different than what I was at first expecting, but it was food. Required for life, you know. "He can't be that bad."

William dropped his plate, sending potato chips flying everywhere. "He's that bad. Trust me."

I gave him an odd look. "You dropped something. By the way."

While he walked off to get something to clean up his mess, I took a seat at a nearby table to eat. It wasn't as loud as, say, the cafeteria at university. No, these were grown adult males that had at least some sense of maturity in their beings.

He returned with a broom and a dustpan, the dustpan tucked into his belt. The belt was suppose to be used for holding a gun, but whatever. It would probably seem sexier to a wife if it held a dustpan or a small broom instead of a gun.

William cleaned up, then looked back over at me. "Again. Trust me. You'll have your hands full, being his assistant."

Trust me, I think I got the message.


	3. Chapter 3

_'Beep'_

_'Beep'_

_'Beep'_

My hand flew to the nightstand, my fingers trying to quickly shut off the alarm clock. It wasn't a happy sound at all. It was the sort of sound that rang in your ears for hours and hours, giving you a headache within minutes. Finally, I found the button that turned it-

Scratch that. The blood curdling beeping sound only got louder.

"Ack!" I squeaked as I rolled out of bed, apparently reaching too far off the bed. My side instantly started to throb. I groaned, tensing up.

This was already starting out to be a great first day at actual work.

There came a knock at my door. "You're due at the medbay in five, Sara."

Shit.

~

With my hair in the messiest ponytail imaginable, I ran into the medbay. My forehead was beaded with sweat. It took me longer than I first realized to find the medbay again, especially with most of the lights turned off still.

"I'm here!" I announced, bending down with my hands on my knees to catch my breath. "Am I... Am I late?"

The large red 'mech', as I learned to call them, looked down at me with a small sigh. "Yes. By thirty seven seconds. What were you doing?"

I looked up at him, regaining my more 'professional' composure. "Sorry, I had a little trouble finding the medical center again. It was darker out than I anticipated." That had to have sounded at least a little bit more formal. Right?

Ratchet turned back to the large monitor in his corner of the room. "Yes, yes. I've set some data pads over there beside your desk. They include multiple different situations and such for you to try out. I need to find out exactly what I need to teach you, and what you already know." By the tone of his voice at the end of the statement, I could tell he didn't have high hopes for my past knowledge.

It wasn't very nice of him, really.

With my bag slung over my shoulder still, I walked over to the small wooden desk. The data pads on top of the desk weren't huge, like I had thought they would be. They were specifically human sized, but they looked like they hadn't been messed with forever. They were so pristine.

I got to work as quickly as I can. The data pads, I found out, worked a lot like how a new iPad or something would work. Sliding a finger across the screen unlocks it, and then it would take the user through a line of slides.

The first one was very simple. It only had text on it. 'Welcome, Sara'

Personalized. That's always nice.

What slide followed next made me the most frustrated I have ever been since multiplying matrices back in high school. Every other word was in English, clear as day. But after every English word was a wonky symbol. The English words didn't make sense, so I only assumed that the symbols meant something in a different language.

Then it hit me. The language that the Cybertronians, the Autobots at least, were used to. Their native tongue.

"Shit...." I cursed under my breath. If the symbols meant a word equivalent to an English word, I would have to quickly figure it out. There was a 'patient' on the data pad, and with every second that passed, their health line went down.

Every single second.

Cold breath hit my shoulder, making me shiver. "Your patient's dying."

I nodded, trying to quickly figure out a solution. "Yeah, I know, I know...." I said under my breath, pulling out a notebook and pen.

The sentences had to make sense in one way or the other. So I found out a system quickly that wasn't quick, but it would get it done eventually.

I found a few words that could fit the symbols to make the sentences make sense, then when the same symbols came up later, I plugged in the possible meanings. If the meanings still fit, then I would know for sure that's what the symbol meant.

If not, then I was screwed and had to start over.

Five minutes later, I had over half of the symbols figured out.

"Your patient is dying," Ratchet repeated, his tone gruff. "When you're on the field, you can't simply play with a pen and paper." He snatched the data pad from my hands and made a few swipes on it with his finger, then handed it back down to me.

The whole page was now in English.

As quickly as I could, I followed the directions. What made me a bit more frustrated was the fact that it just gave me a few sentences of instructions, then it left me to do what I needed.

The patient was a grey male, and growing greyer by the second. I saw a blue liquid seeping out of one of the arm sockets. It reminded me of blood. That must be their blood source.

At least their anatomy is close to ours, when it comes to parts. Two arms, two legs, a head, such.

I swiped my finger over the instruments that looked like the ones you would use on a human, only slight differences, and got to quick work on the arm socket.

There was a syringe, and when my finger hovered over it, it gave me some information on it in small italic letters. 'Anesthetic- numbing agent'

I drug the syringe over to the injured shoulder. The grey body instantly relaxed. It made me smile as I continued to do all that I could to fix the injury, resulting in the data pad going dark when I was finished.

"Very good. Where did you learn such an effective wound cleaning technique?" He sounded quite pleased. It surprised me to hear that tone from him.

I smiled, shrugging. "College. Field work."

Ratchet nodded. "I see. Have you read the study on Plasmapheresis and Energon infusions?"

The studies I was sent just the night before. All that I was sent before work started officially. "Of course. And I do have a few questions."

"Good, good. What are your questions?" he asked.

"An Energon infusion is very similar to a human based blood infusion, correct?" I looked up at him. The Energon infusion study was one I wasn't able to read all the way though, but I did what I could to interpret it.

Ratchet nodded, exhaling. "They are similar, yes."

I smiled. That's one thing that I know. "I already knew what Plasmapheresis is. I've had it done before."

He raised his eyebrow. Optic ridge? Maybe. "Sick child, eh?"

Maybe I should have rephrased that particular sentence. "No... I used to donate plasma. So I'm more knowledgeable than most when it comes to that, but I still have a lot to learn."

"With Energon in such short supply, we have had to try similar methods to humans when it comes to... Recycling Energon." He sounded particularly unappealed by the idea.

I nodded. "That sounds like it would be difficult." Imagine us humans trying to recycle old blood in order to keepkeep somebody alive. It just wouldn't work. Using the same blood over and over- it would defeat the purpose of a transfusion. The nutrients would be depleted.

He nodded easily. " We've had limited success. I hope we can figure out a solution soon. All the fixing in the universe can't help when a 'bot has a small supply of Energon, and we are unable to replenish it."

A question ran across my mind. He would most likely welcome questions. "Is Energon like blood, then? Can you guys make it inside your bodies?"

A pause came before an answer. "It is a sort of cross between blood and car transmission oil. Some of it can be self made, but we have to intake Energon so we don't run low as well."

"It also serves as your fuel source?"

"Precisely."

"So it serves as both your fuel source and your life blood?"

"Indeed."

I smiled. At least I was getting something right. "But if you are low, is there not any here on Earth?"

Ratchet shook his head. "There are Energon deposits in other planets, like Earth, but they can be very difficult to find."

"There is Energon here on Earth, then?"

"Yes, there is." His tone went from smooth to irritated very quickly. Maybe because I was making him repeat what he already said?

I just nodded again, looking down at the data pad. "I see..."

It still confused me. How could he be the force that was driving striving medics away? It was a grand opportunity, and he's not all that bad.

I swore that I saw him smile again. "Asking questions is the best way to gather information. If you have any questions, any at all, ask."

I looked up at him. "Okay then. Are there different types of Energon?"

He nodded. "There are three types. Medical grade, which is used for Energon infusions and such. Normal grade, which we ingest. And high grade.... Equivalent to human made alcohol. High grade is something that we have here on this base, but is not capable of being used for infusions or transfusions. It is worthless, besides what the 'bots here on base use it for."

"Autobots like to get wasted? That's a bit peculiar."

"It is often how minor injuries happen," he commented, taking one of my finished pads and examining it. "You may be treating some patients soon."

The sound of that made my heart both drop and beat faster. Already, talking about me treating patients? "Okay... How soon will that be, exactly...?"

He chuckled. It was a nice sound, truthfully. "Not too soon. You have much to learn."

"I agree," I said quickly. Making myself sound conceited was not my intention, and I wanted just the opposite. He needed to know that I was willing to learn all that I could in order to fulfill my duty here. "Since I don't have any other questions... Should I get back to work?"

He grunted, taking my finished pad back to his desk. "I would highly recommend it."

He wasn't that bad at all.


	4. Chapter 4

It was not as hard as I first imagined it would be. The work was intense, yes, but I could get through it in a very good frame of time. And if I had a question, Ratchet was right there to answer it. He didn't discourage any questions, no matter how dumb.

One question I had asked him was about different diseases and things that can happen. Because of Cybertronian anatomy and biology was so close, yet so far, from ours, many of my questions were good ones. One was if Cybertronian beings can have thrombosis. Thrombosis is a stationary blood clot in a vein or artery.

Ratchet's reply had been that yes, Cybertronian beings can in fact have thrombosis, or get thrombosis. It was just a different form, a clot of Energon in their system. It was less likely in one of them than it was in a human.

If anything, I was working more efficiently than he had expected. I swore that I saw him sometimes smile over at me out of the corner of my vision, as if he was proud. It looked like one of those proud father smiles, only without the father part. It made me feel very proud of myself.

At around five that evening, I left to give myself a break. I walked around the base a little bit, running into semi-familiar soldiers and chatted for a while. They all seemed to want me to get upset about the work, which confused me to no end.

It wasn't bad at all to work for or with Ratchet. He wasn't a bad guy, he was nice, at least sometimes. It almost made me upset that people talked down about him so much. It made me curious about the other Cybertronians on base, if they were much nicer or more hot headed.

Finally, I came back with a sandwich wrapped in saran wrap and a water bottle with a red tint to the liquid from my additives. I swallowed some pills as I walked in, trying to make sure Ratchet didn't see me.

If he thought I was sick, which I wasn't, he might make me not work. That was not what I wasn't at all.

I sat down at my desk again, opening up my sandwich to get a bite before I was right back to work, trying to make up lost time from when I was gone.

"I've never seen red tinted water before," Ratchet said in a light tone. His voice told me that he thought something was up.

I held up the bottle and shook it. The tint didn't go away. "Vitaminwater," I replied. It wasn't a total lie.

He raised up his optic ridges, I figured out what they were called, but then I just went back to my work.

A half hour later, and multiple data pad simulations later, it was about six at night.

Ratchet looked over at me. "Do you want to help me with something?"

I set the data pad down, it was a finished simulation, and looked up at him. "Sure," I shrugged. Helping him with anything was a reason that I was here, I was here to help in any way I could.

"I need to take a blood sample," he said, walking over. He had a miniscule needle in his servo.

Blood sample. Shit.

I cringed as the needle extracted a good amount of blood from my arm, then he injected the blood into a vial and ran it through a scanner.

Everything was quiet for a few minutes while I got back to work. He was still running the scan.

He was the one to break the silence. "So what stranded you here?"

In reply, I just shrugged. "Helping.. Government, I guess. Medical field."

It sounded as if he forced a small chuckle. "Most people would reject this for lack of human contact..."

"I'm the opposite..." I said softly. I chose this job to avoid human contact, at least a lot of it.

His helm tilted to the side. "And why is that? Not a very social human?"

I shrugged again.

"I understand."

I barely let out a whisper, "I doubt you do..."

It made me jump when he said, "Then how about you tell me?" I completely forgot about Cybertronian expert hearing.

"Nothing, it's nothing," I said quickly, trying to grab at a different data pad.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he told me softly. Was he actually being gentle? About this? Of all things.

He knew. Without a doubt, he knew.

Before I started back on my work with a data pad, to look over all of my mistakes, I gave him an odd look. I was trying to convince him nothing was 'wrong', or that I wasn't ashamed of something.

The look I saw him give me out of the corner of my eye was a look of almost respect.

Who would respect someone with cystic fibrosis?

I corrected my mistakes as quickly as I could before I left, taking my half eaten sandwich and nutrient filled water with me.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a single reason that I never tried to tell anybody about my condition. One very simple reason, but some people find it so hard to understand. Because of my condition, people often feel obligated to give me more than I deserve. Sometimes a raise, sometimes pity.

But I don't want pity. I don't want an undeserved raise. What I want out of life is something with meaning, something that I earned. Not something that was given to me out of pity.

The next day, I was slightly more prepared. With the night before all in the past, I had gotten a good night of rest. I was well beyond ready for the amount of work that that day would bring.

"Hello," I said gently to Ratchet as I passed him by.

He didn't even turn his head to look at me. He was typing away at his large computer, not taking his optics off of it. "Good morning, Sara."

I stopped walking when I reached my desk. On the desk sat a vase with a good few of pink roses. Pink roses.

Instead of trying to figure out why they were there, it should have been obvious to me anyway, I looked up at him. "Was the blood sample good enough for your research?"

"Extremely," he nodded. He turned around to face me, and smiled softly. "In fact, I would appreciate if you would serve as my... Guinea pig, as humans would say."

"For what?"

Ratchet slowly held out his servo. Inside of his servo was a small human-sized syringe. For such a big mech, he surely knew how to handle smaller objects with such care. "This is an experiment that should boost one's immune system. You are a good human to test it out on, since I can monitor you all day for any negative side effects."

My head tilted to one side. "What sort of side effects would there be?"

He just shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure as of yet. The worst thing that would happen is that it wouldn't work at all, and there would maybe be some head pain. The best case scenario would be no side effects, and a boosted immune system for you."  
Something inside me told me that he wasn't just doing this for shits and giggles, but I didn't try to question him. He was my obvious superior, and I had to trust his judgement. I did trust his judgement. I had no reason to think otherwise. He's done nothing negative to me.

I nodded. "Of course. I'll still be able to work, right?" Getting behind on my work did not sound like a very productive day. The exact opposite, actually. Counter-productive.

He chuckled. "You will still be able to work."

Without further pause, he wiped my arm with an alcohol wipe and injected the needle. I flinched a little as the weird liquid entered my bloodstream, but I didn't make a sound.

When he was done, he placed another cotton ball over the little injection hole and placed a bandage on top of it. "There. Now you may get back to work."

And so I did. There was no awkwardness between us. This could actually work.


	6. Chapter 6

The days stayed long, the sleep I got each night got lessened. It wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. It was enough to consider me sleep deprived, but it didn't affect my work as much as it could have.

I looked up at Ratchet as the time ticked by. Holding back a cough, I looked back at my data pad for the time. It was eight at night. My shifts were not suppose to be over ten hours, and so far, I was clocking twelve. The goal for today was to make it to fifteen until he notices.

He's usually so far into his work, he doesn't notice anything, even if it hits him. Barely any mecha come in to get checkups, unless it's Monday, or if they had sparing recently and need to patch anything up. Only the major injuries get patched up; nobody lets slip that anything happened if it is less than fatal.

My chest felt tighter than usual, but I ignored it. I would have to remember to use my compression vest.

The time continued to tick by, though there was no actual clock to where I could hear the ticking. It was all inside my head. My chest felt tighter, and I had to continue to hold back coughs. It was eleven thirty.

Using my vest later would be a must now, not even an option.

I knew that sitting near those ill soldiers during my lunch break had been a terrible idea. Absolutely terrible idea.

Ratchet finally looked over at me. "What are you doing?"

"Working," I answered him easily, tapping at the data pad.

He made a small sound, something between a grunt and a hum. "Why are you still here so late? It's well past your finishing hour."

"Fifteen hours clocked." I logged out of my data pad and smiled up at the large metal being. "And a half, though I won't count that. I used that for my lunch."

"What did you use for your dinner break? Surely, you had one."

"Not really, sir. I skipped dinner."

He raised an optic ridge. "Oh?"

I shrugged. "Not very hungry. If there's nothing else for me to do, I'll go ahead and leave." My throat was so clogged up with mucus, I had to cough. It wasn't even an option anymore. But it wasn't just a cough.

It was as if I was ejecting my lungs out of my esophagus.

Without even looking at him, I could imagine the frown on Ratchet's faceplate. A cool metal digit rubbed my back gingerly. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, feeling my face heat up with the lack of air, then it quickly cooled down. I pounded on my chest with my fist. "I'm fine..."

"Do not lie."

Looking up at him again, I forced my coughs back to speak. "I. Am. Fine. Goodnight, Ratchet." I packed up my things quickly and left.

His serum hadn't worked.


	7. Chapter 7

It was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Work wasn't even an option. Not when I couldn't even stand up without coughing.

All because of that terrible idea of me sitting next to those soldiers with a cold again.

A knock came to my door. I couldn't get up to answer it. I dry heaved into the trashcan that sat near my bedside. My face was burning up.

Something happened as somebody opened up the door. I didn't even get the chance to see who it was.

~

"Is this very common for humans?" Optimus asked Ratchet in a low tone. Ratchet was working on a new serum for Sara, with an unconscious Sara laying on the cot in the medbay. She looked very pale, especially compared to her normal skin tone.

Ratchet partly blamed himself. 'She should not have had to work that long yesterday,' he internally scolded himself as he added a mixture of human painkillers to the diluted Energon mixture.

Optimus had to ask the question again, he didn't think that Ratchet had heard him the first time. "Is this very common for humans?"

"... Only about thirty thousand humans in the United States have this particular disease," he said lightly, trying to focus on the serum while speaking. "It is mostly found in caucasians. Asian descendents in particular are often not carriers, and it is very rare."

He hummed quietly. "I see. This disease, what is it?"  
"It is the lack of a certain protein in the lungs that allows certain particles passage. Without the specific protein gene, nothing is allowed passage. Mucus buildup is an effect of this, and the risk of diseases worsening because of it, like the common cold or flu, worsens."

"Will she be alright?"  
Ratchet let out a soft sigh as he injected the completed serum into her arm. "I hope so..."

He couldn't believe this. Just his luck, the one good medic assistant he could get his servos on had a terminating illness. One that at this rate would terminate her within years, maybe even within this year itself.

'She has so much to live for,' he thought to himself. 'Family to go back home to. She could be great things, both for me and for her own kind, if only she had the time to live and do so.'

He slept in the medbay that night, after saying a short prayer to Primus. 'Let her live.... Let her know that she has a right to live and have a purpose...'


	8. Chapter 8

Voices whirled all around me. They sounded distant.

"Are you sure she's still alive?"

"Yes, she's still alive. She has a heart rate mon-"

"Are you positive? The sooner we can get rid of the squishy, the better."

"Would you be quiet? I'm positive that she is alive. Must you question everything that I have to say?"

"Must you answer me with questions?"

"Must you?"

The voices were familiar, but I couldn't seem to put faces and names to them. All that I could tell was that I did know them. One of them I swore was the voice of Ratchet, though I couldn't be completely sure. He had one of those voices. One of those voices that you can sometimes confuse for others' voices.

"Leave me and her alone," the Ratchet-like voice growled.

If I would have had the strength, I would have opened my eyes. But it felt as though I had ran a marathon the day before, and my whole body was involved in that. My eyelids hurt. My arms hurt. My thighs hurt.

Most of all, my chest and head hurt. Those hurt the worst.

After a good pause, the other voices said in a soft tone, "Is she going to die?"

Another pause, this time from Ratchet. "... I'm afraid so, Ironhide."

'Ironhide' grunted softly, before I heard his footsteps start to echo, the sounds getting lighter and lighter.

Was Ratchet right? Am I going to die?

Will the good Lord finally take me away?


	9. Chapter 9

My eyes finally allowed me to open. It wasn't their fault. It was all my brain that always signaled for my body to feel tired when I was sick like this. Though, I hadn't been sick like this before. Not this badly.

The aches and pains that my body felt were unlike any other pains that I had ever endured, in all my twenty-something years of living. One of my life goals had been to make it past thirty years old. At this rate, that life goal was a fool's wish. A foolish wish.

I heaved into the nearby trash bin. It was painful coming up, and even more painful to just look at.

"There's a large buildup of mucus near your lungs," Ratchet said softly. He was sitting across the room from me, thirty or so feet away from me.

Sighing, I leaned back against the large pillow. "How much longer do you think I'll have to deal with this...?"

He frowned. "Do you wish to leave this universe sooner?"

I shook my head quickly. "No, no.... But I'm not useful to anybody when I'm like.... This." I couldn't hear my own voice, though I could tell that it sounded absolutely awful. My throat was clogged. My nose was clogged.

It was like the worst case of allergies imaginable, though it wasn't allergies at all.

Ratchet gave me an empathetic look. "I wish that I could have helped your situation more..."

I shrugged, blowing my nose into the last clean tissue I had. "I wish I could have a normal, longer life.... But that isn't going to happen..."

"Maybe," he started, "you can do some unfinished business before you go."

"How much longer do I have?"  
"A few days at most..." It seemed to pain him to speak those words to me. Though that was something that confused me. Why did it pain him to tell me I was going to die soon? It wasn't like I was some huge important person.

Just because you try at something does not mean you can be the biggest and the best. There will always be people who try harder than you, that are stronger than you, and that have more experience than you do.

"What sort of unfinished business do you have in mind?" I asked him slowly. "Are you talking, like... More business work that I need to finish?"

As soon as I asked him that question, he shook his head rapidly. "No, no. That's not at all what I'm talking about. What I meant was unfinished emotional business."

I chuckled softly. "You sound kind of like Dr. Phil... That's what he says."

Ratchet smiled softly. "I'm glad you caught that. You most likely have much unfinished emotional business with your family. You haven't seen them in a month."  
"Has it been a month already? That I've been here? Time sure flies when you're working a good job..."

He stood up, walking over to me very slowly. His steps made soft 'clang' sounds in my ears, though it wasn't high pitched enough for it to be painful. He bent down and placed a very light kiss on my head. "Only if you feel up to it... I can have your family brought here to see you. It is a special emergency."

Without even thinking, I nodded, closing my eyes. "Please..."

He was right. I needed to see them.


	10. Chapter 10

The news I got as soon as my family were allowed transport to the base broke my heart. It truthfully wasn't heartwarming to know that my cousin, whom also had cystic fibrosis, had died just a few weeks earlier. And now, my family would be forced to go through another death.

"Why didn't you guys tell me?" I mumbled, not daring to meet my father's eyes. He kept a secret like that from me. My best friend, my cousin. They didn't bother to tell me. I wasn't able to go to her funeral or viewing.

They took that away from me. It was as if nothing at all was in my control.

My dad sighed, shaking his head. Though I wasn't looking at him, I could still tell. "When she was on her deathbed-"

"You never had her call me," I said coldly. "You never wrote me a letter. You left me completely in the dark. And when were you going to tell me? In a few months? If I wasn't dying, would you not have told me?" My voice raised as the conversation grew on.

Ratchet was monitoring my health stats, to warn us of anything, but at the moment everything seemed to be stable.

"We wanted you to focus on your work, sweetheart," Mom told me gently. "News of her passing wouldn't help you in your work."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, and keeping it a secret from me for a long time is going to be more beneficial to somebody?"

A hand was placed on my shoulder. "We didn't want you to get upset..." my little brother murmured to me softly. "We know how important your work is to you... All we want is for you to strive in what you do best."

"She does strive," Ratchet finally spoke up. "Sara has been the best medical assistant I have ever had, even compared to my past Cybertronian assistants. It breaks my spark to know that soon, she will become one with the W- with God."

Gabriel, my brother, looked up at him. "Are you sure there's nothing more you can do, mister?"

Ratchet knelt down as far as he could go, comfortably, and spoke softly to my brother. "I did all that I can, young one. Everything that is possible that could be done, I have done it."

"Have you tried antibiotics?" Mom asked.

He almost rolled his optics. I could see the refrain. "Antibiotics are for bacterial infections. She has a viral infection, a virus running rampant through her lungs, even as we speak. One could not simply use antibiotics on a virus. It is not useful at all, and is a waste of good medicine."

"How would you know?" she scowled. "You're not even a human."

He gave her a look of challenge. "So we will go this route. Well, Mrs. Griffin. Sara is most definitely not a Cybertronian, and yet she knows more about the Cybertronian anatomy and structure, viruses and how to cure many diseases and how to diagnose them, more than any other Cybertronian on this Earth, excluding myself. I can assure you, I have done extensive research on multiple different websites on the World Wide Web, in all languages, with doctors of many different nationalities. Doctors that are not just American doctors. I have privately spoken to a number of doctors that lived in Japan, China, England, Italy, Brazil, and more. Do not question me when I tell you that I have done all that I can do for your daughter. When she leaves this Earth, it will not just be your loss. I assure you, it will be a lost of many. Myself included."

He spoke so strongly. He never told me that he'd gone that far in looking for something, anything, to give us both hope. It only showed me how much he actually did care. He cared more than I ever realized. Did I take it for granted all of this time?

How had I not known that he cared so much about his mere human medical assistant?

Mom took a step back, surprised. Surprised that she had just been spoken to by a different species, and that he had challenged her. "W-Well..."

"Yes?" He raised an optic ridge. "Spit it out, Mrs. Griffin."

She huffed quickly. "I do not need to explain myself to you. We are here only to see our daughter in our final days. If you would, we would like some time alone with her-"

"No..." I said slowly. "Either everybody stays and gets along... Or you go, and he stays."

Mom frowned. "But, sweetie-"

"But Mom," I countered quietly. "Don't make me argue... Not now."

A few long minutes passed, nobody said anything. Nobody moved, except for Ratchet when he had to check my vitals.

"They're getting worse... Quickly..." he said to me, extremely softly.

I took a deep breath. "Can you change my medicine? Give me a different serum, so I can last just a bit longer...?"

He shook his helm, biting his lower lip plating. "I'm so sorry, Sara..."

A thought popped into my head. It wasn't a very happy thought. But it was something that I needed to consider.

Just a few months ago, a woman with a terminating illness was allowed to give herself medication that would kill her. Almost like suicide, but she had chose to go with more dignity than she would have if she let the illness itself kill her.

That was how I wanted to go.

I gave Ratchet a pleading look. We had earlier spoken about it. He had even made up an injection that would do the job, just in case we decided to do it.

Ratchet sighed. "Are you positive?"

"I want the pain to end..." I whispered. "Please."

He walked slowly over to his cart, which held a tray, and on the tray sat the specific injection he had made up. It was the same concept of when an animal was put to sleep. But much more powerful.

My parents both looked like they were about to cry, but I forced a small smile at them. "Don't worry. I'll still be here. I'll be with you. I'll be in a better place."

"What better place would be t-than in o-our arms?" Mom spluttered out.

"I'll have no more pain, Mom..."

"Do you wish to do it, Sara?" Ratchet asked me tensely.

I shook my head. "I can't do it... Could you?"

His optics widened. "I-I can't-"

"Can't what? Kill? I'm sure you've done it before," I forced a small laugh. "Please... It's my last wish. Please... Do it for me...."

The tip of the needle pierced my skin. A soft numbing feeling ran through my body, I felt my eyes slide shut.

And there was no more pain.


	11. Epilogue

Ratchet watched silently as Sara Griffin's family walked out of his med bay in a mess of tears. As soon as the bay door slid shut, he sank to his knees, hiding his face in his hands.

 _'Be strong, you're supposed to be strong!'_ he chided himself. How could he feel so deeply about a human? A broken human.

A deceased human.

This human femme had outlasted all of the others sent to him put together. Ratchet had tried his hardest to dislike her, but to no avail. She just held this sweet presence, she kept him on his pedes with her attitude and her wit. She respected him even so. That didn't stop her from excelling at what she did. At whatever she did, in fact

Whatever he decided to put in front of her, she had it figured out by the end of the day. Even some of the Autobots on the base couldn't have deciphered all that she had done. She knew more about Cybertronian beings and their anatomy than some, if not most, of the Autobots on that base.

"You are such a loss, Miss Sara," Ratchet said quietly, his helm pointed towards her body on the cot. "Such a loss for humanity and Cybertronians alike."

There wasn't much he could say. She was gone, and that was that. He had done everything in his power, as explained to her mother, to help her. And yet, there he was. It wasn't enough.

Ratchet shook his helm, wiping his face plates. "Got to get back to work, huh, Sara?" Nothing stopped her from her work. He was determined to do the same.

He turned back to his bay and began to write out blueprints. He knew the likelihood of this was... Well, not likely, but this stubborn mech was stubborn and as determined as ever. He couldn't just go back to work like nothing happened. Something had to be done.

And if all else failed, he'd have to carry on with his life and this war like nothing. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn't do it. He had to do something, something for Sara.

"Who needs sleep, huh, Sara?" He forced a small chuckle from his chest. This was for her.


End file.
